IDon'tEvenKnow
by Error 404 - Talent Not Found
Summary: In which Tom is the antagonist.


**IDon'tEvenKnow  
**

Written By: Error 401 - Talent Not Found

Dedicated to Edd Gould (1988-2012) (I am sorry for writing this please don't be upset)

* * *

Very long A/N coming up.

I hate dialogue so much, so it sucks that this is mostly comprised of just that. *sighs*

Don't get me wrong, I _love_ Tom. He's my favourite, but there are so many fics that only antagonize Tord, so I figured, why the hell not? I usually prefer fics where Tom is in the position that Tord is in, in this fic.

I also didn't start off with only Tom being the bad guy, I had both of them- but then this happened. *rubs back of head awkwardly* Yeah it's not good. The thing that I pay attention to the most is characterization. I hate it when characters are OOC, so it's appalling how I'm still posting this despite the fact that I think Tom and Tord are slightly OOC.

I'mSorryPleaseDon'tHurtMeI'mATerriblePerson

I really don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this. I really don't. WhatEvenTheHell. Which explains the lack of logic in this fic. I don't even know. I can feel the cliché just burning into my skin ughhhhhh. There is so little logic in this fic that I don't even understand it. Hahah. You know that 3 day window in which I'm supposed to like things that I write? Yeah, no, I was hating this even while I was writing. Many plotholes. MANY PLOTHOLES. WHY NOT JUST KILL HIM? I DON'T KNOW. SHUTTUP.

ThisIsSuchATerribleFicOMFGWhatEvenAreYouDoingE401?

I'm going to apologise now for the lack of quality in this fic and the fact that this isn't written in my usual style.

Right, I know who it is, and I've hinted at it throughout, but y'know...

Please enjoy? Hopefully? Yeah? Yeah.

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"Don't you _fucking_ _dare_."

"Make me, Ridgewell."

"You only need to fight me, not them; so what the fuck do you want, Larsson?"

Tord leant back and made a nonchalant gesture with his gun in hand. They were fighting indoors, not their ideal arena, but it was where their fight first broke out. The kitchen looked like a post-apocalyptic warzone with bullet holes and general debris scattered about its usually clean white surfaces. Blood and saliva flecked the walls and stained the paneling.

'_Fuck, both of you get upstairs.'_

"I don't know, numerous things, but all of them resulting with you realizing how far up your own ass you are."

"So you go after your friends? The people who actually like you and let you live with them, and aren't part of this fucking shitstorm?"

"Yup."

"You make me sick."

"So do you. And don't act like you don't do the fucked up things that you do to them either."

Tom's grip on his gun tightened, "Oh, and what would that be? Couldn't be worse than stabbing them in the back and hurting them, would it? Or maybe, you'll find something worse than being a traitorous liar." His voice lowered to a spiteful hiss.

"How about abuse? Of every kind? You don't know what you do when you're drunk, Ridgewell. You're a disease and you're killing them just as much as you believe me to be."

Tom's lack of eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth, "You're a sanctimonious prick, you know that?"

"And you're the dirtiest hypocrite there was in existence. Are you really so naïve to believe that _I_ was the one who started this?"

Tom laughed in anger, "Please, enlighten me. Who else could it have been that started this, but the supreme asshole, himself? _This way please your highness; be careful not to slip on the kindness of us civilians, it might get your shoes dirty,_" he mocked.

Throughout the exchange, the two kept their weapons trained on each other, not letting their gazes wander from each other's disgusting face. They spat words like poison while they exchanged blows and gunfire. Between the two, they were pretty injured, leaning on various surfaces for support and breathing heavily. Tord had kicked Tom's gun away, but he still had one with him, which he pulled out and cocked.

"You really don't know, do you? Before you started drinking, did you know that Matt actually liked sleeping with all the lights off? Or that Edd didn't lock his door at night?"

Tom's lack of eyes narrowed again, "Go on."

"How about I tell you a joke? What do you get when you cross a severely drunken bastard with friends who try to prevent him from dying of alcohol poisoning?"

"Hilarious."

"Apparently in this case, a whole lot of aggressiveness and injury."

"What?"

"Ever wondered why I stay shut up in my room so often?"

"Because you're an insensitive douche?" He deadpanned.

"Guess who stops you? Guess who prevents you from doing things that would ruin _everyone's_ lives? Me. Fucking me."

"_Please_, don't antagonize me because you don't have any merit to your name."

"I stay there because you do this kind of shit to me," he pulls back the fabric of his hoodie to reveal a plethora of jagged white lines of varying lengths and designs.

"Don't change the subject. What happened to Matt and Edd?"

"Nothing now, thanks to me, but earlier on you'd hurt them so badly they'd make excuses to leave the house for a couple of days. You came close to _raping_ one of them for fuck's sake."

"What?" Tom's lack of eyes widened in fear.

"Oh don't worry now, because you didn't hurt them. You fucked me, _your highness_."

Tom was shocked into silence.

"Oh but they still liked you more than they liked me after I kept you away from them. I was never out of my room enough to spend time with them, but because you no longer hurt them, they thought you were okay. You were safe to be around, but at night, when you came back drunk again, I had to find some way to get you from the hall and reversed-locked in your room before you made too much noise. Usually though, it wouldn't work and I'd end up with fresh bruises and bleeding cuts in the morning. And they'd ask me why I was shut up in my room for the next few days- but it doesn't end there. If you didn't find someone to take whatever drunken madness you had out on, you'd end up drinking again in the middle of the day, when you'd really hurt the other two. Someone had to take the blow. So, the question is, what the fuck do _you_ want, _Ridgewell_?"

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up."

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

"Fuck off. Just fuck the fuck off."

"I can't, or you'll hurt the other two," a smirk, "Why don't _you_ fuck off for a change?"

"Shut up, Tord."

"Hey, I'm just saying," he shrugs mockingly, watching Tom squirm underneath the weight of the revelation.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Not what you said that night almost a week ago."

_Get rid of the bottle first. Fail to remove the bottle, end up with shards of glass in upper arm. Attempt to restrain him and force him into a more enclosed area- somewhere that's not the living room. Dodge the near-misses and brace for the well thrown punches. Lose a tooth, split a lip. Drag him to a room with a door that can be locked. Attempt to remove the remains of bottle again. Succeed. Attempt to fight him into submission. End up pinned against the wall. Admit defeat. Brace for more pain. Brace for… Leave room. Reverse lock him inside his room. Return to own room. Remove ripped clothing. Remove glass. Shower. Vow to never drink. Duct tape mouth shut. Fail to fall asleep. Have a nightmare. Muffled scream in duct tape. Wake up. Remain in room. Wait for tomorrow night- or the night after if lucky. Repeat._

"I'll shoot you," although he said it, it was an empty threat, despair quickly mixing with anger and Tom began to look less vehement.

"I have more of a reason to. Fucker. Actually, why didn't I do that in the first place? Right, because somehow, Edd and Matt like a fucking abusive rapist more than me. FUCK!"

"Shoot me then. I'll shoot you too. With me gone, you don't need to protect them anymore and without you, I don't have anyone I need to keep them away from."

In the tense moments of silence following that, two successive gunshots rang out.

"Oh shit…you actually shot."

"So did you."

"Yeah, but…you fired a blank…"

"Yup."

"But I didn't."

"Nope."

"Did you know it was a blank?"

"Yup."

"Oh _SHIT._"

He rushed over and pressed his hand over the gun wound, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood, "ShitShitShitShit oh Fuck. Oh Fuck!" It was so terribly severe that even calling an ambulance would be too late. Death was imminent.

"Come on; don't tell me you weren't expecting this. You knew full well that this was going to happen when you fired."

"Yeah, but I didn't know _you'd_ use a fucking _blank_!"

"And that makes a difference?"

"Yes! Fuck!"

"Okay," he coughed and blood bubbled at the edge of his lips, "Sometimes the hero is the villain, isn't he?"

"You're such an idiot, why would you do that?"

"I didn't want to kill a friend of those two. Also, I didn't want to die together with the likes of you." He coughed again, this time, the blood flecking the other boy's face, "Heh, shit, my bad."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"That should be a question I'm asking you, considering that I'm going to, well, die."

"I don't even know."

"Well, you better find out."

"I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

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Review?


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